Leap of Faith
by Graysonation
Summary: Bound together by the sharing of a 'super' secret, the kindergarten outcasts of genius Spencer Reid and empathetic Peter Petrelli find a friendship in one another that they'd never hoped to have
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** Wow, I must be on some sort of drug or something . . . tow whole story ideas in one week? And it's not even Christmas yet! (Or maybe procrastinating is just a _really_ good inspiration . . .) Well, for whatever reason, I am back once more; and this time, I brought a Crossover. See, just recently, I was laying in bed, thinking about two of my favorite good boys, and I was hit with the idea - _Why not mix them together?_ And thus, a strange little fic-let was born in my even stranger mind, where little Peter Petrelli (from _Heroes_) gets the chance to meet (not yet Doctor or Special Agent) Spencer Reid (from _Criminal Minds_).

This is going to be a three-shot, I believe. I've got parts all planned in my head, and all I need to do now is chain myself to my computer and make them typed down . . . But, anyhoo, it'll all be over a relatively short amount of time. I just wanted to write my boys as, well, . . . _boys_, and I see no viable way to drag that on for a thousand chapters (by the way, writing as a kid is _hard_ – they talk so strangely!).

But I've been babbling – really, I hope that you guys like this. I'm trying to make it easy for anyone who watches either _Criminal Minds_ or _Heroes_, but for whatever reason, not both (and really, why the crap wouldn't you watch both?). But if anything is hard to understand, just PM me or complain about it in a review.

**Disclaimor(s): **I most certainly do own my own story, my imagination, and my creativity (and they're not for sale, so NO ONE ELSE gets to either, _got it?_). But, most regretfully, I do not own _Criminal Minds_, _Heroes, _or the city of Las Vegas. And, believe you me, if I owned Peter Petrelli or Spencer Reid, I would be a bit to busy making them kiss to be on here writing FanFiction. (Saw-ry, but 'tis the truth.)

Reviews, while unnecessary, are still read, appreciated, and responded to.

Do enjoy.

* * *

**"Leap of Faith"**

* * *

Days like this were something of a rarity in Nevada. Days where the sun was shining bright, but not hot; days where the sky was crystal clear and turquoise blue. Days where the wind was a light breeze, and not a violent whip, and the smells of the city were carried softly in the wind - baking bread from the little deli around the block, the heady scent of maple from the trees on the street corners, and, of course, that always-there little tinge of acrid smoke, from the layers of smog and gasoline that sifted off of Las Vegas's many thoroughfares.

It was the kind of day where, for the first time since school had started, the teachers at one of Sin City's many elementary schools had decided to let the kids play outside for their half-hour of recess, instead of keeping them cooped up indoors like they had been for the past few weeks. it was simply too nice out. Sunscreen was dispersed, roll call was taken, and then the kindergarten instructors released the kids to the playground, all whooping with joy and running as fast as they could to the kickball court.

Well, most of them were. One child lagged behind the rest of the group; a thin kid, with big glasses and an even bigger sweater he was for some reason wearing in the searing Nevada Heat.

Spencer Reid was _not _utterly ecstatic that he had almost thirty minutes to spend outside of the classroom. Spencer Reid didn't want to run around the court getting dirty and sweaty. He didn't want to be forced into another painful game of soccer . . . or football . . . or even duck-duck-goose.

Spencer enjoyed books. And old music. And movies, too. But mostly books. He read several volumes week, and could recite them word for word after finishing. His mother said that it was because he was special, and she had arranged for his teacher to allow him extra reading time in class, instead of having a rest-time. Of course, Spencer loved perusing books so much that he would often grab a slime novel or two to take outside and read during his recess. It's what he would be doing right now, ordinarily – except that his teacher, insisting that he needed some fresh air, had gently taken "The Grapes of Wrath" from his much-smaller hands, and scooted him through the door.

So now Spencer was walking as slowly as possible towards the playground, mentally calculating the time he would have to take between each step in order for recess to be over by the minute he reached the edge of the asphalt.

As he trudged, Spencer watched the other kids in his class, already playing excitedly, laughing and screaming with the joy that only small children can really express. He gazed on as Sarah Tillman squealed when her friend Becky Brian found her hiding underneath of the tire swing, and sighed a little to himself as the two girls hugged, before running off to play another round of Hide-&-Seek.

No one ever wanted to play with him. His mom called him "special," but the kids here called him "freak" after the first day. He had gotten into a spirited debate with his very shocked teacher about the history of chess and why it was important that she teach the kids in class to play _that _instead of CandyLand, and, as soon as the bell let them out of class, and a still rather-pale Mrs. Lindstrom had made them march single-file to the busses, kids started pushing him and shoving him and trying to get him to say more strange stuff, calling him "crazy" and "weird" when he didn't respond. And every day since then had only gotten a little bit worse. And every day since then, Spencer had gotten a little quieter, a little more withdrawn, and a little more miserable.

But his mom and dad were fighting to fix things for him. His mom had called the school multiple times asking about having her son moved to a different class – to which the answer was a firm no. His father, William, was taking a slightly more aggressive approach, and was demanding that Spencer have some testing done, and be moved up a couple of grades – to which he was always told that the elementary policy was to not allow kids to skip educational levels until after second grade. It was an uphill battle, and though Spencer knew that, eventually, he would have to be moved, he couldn't help but wish he could skip class until that day. He hated kindergarten.

Spencer was heading towards a small grove of trees where he liked to hide in the morning (until school started, and, somehow, he was always too early), but was stopped in his tracks by the sight of Becky Brian crouched over underneath a small cedar. She didn't see Spencer at first, too busy giggling through her fingers and peeking out between the branches in search of her best friend. When her eyes finally caught the figure in front of her, the smile was immediately wiped off her face, and she stood, putting her tiny fists on her even tinier waist.

"Whadda _you _want?" she hissed at a taken-aback Reid.

"I didn't require anything from you, Becky. I was only approaching this particular sect of the school property so that I could sit in the shade, rest my eyes, and be left to ponder in peace and solitude."

Becky just stared at him, her face scrunching up in confusion and distaste.

"However, if you require the use of these particular facilities, I am more than able –"

"GOTCHA!"

Both Becky and Spencer jumped almost a foot off the ground as Sarah Tillman re-appeared around the side of the tree, grabbing Becky's shoulder and screaming dangerously close to her ear.

_"I found you! _Now it's my turn to hide!" Giggling in glee, Sarah turned heel and ran off towards the opposite end of the playground. Becky turned to face Spencer again, her scowl more apparent than ever.

"You _stupid freak!_" She snarled at him, taking a step closer to Spencer, who backed away and promptly stumbled over his own feet. As he lay in the grass, looking up at the furious little girl, Becky continued, leaning in close so that Spencer could hear her anger, but the teachers could not.

"I was going to _win_, and then you hadta ruin it! Now I gotta share my gummies at lunch, and I didn't want to, and I'mma hafta climb around looking for Sarah, and I'mma get all dirty, and then my momma's gonna be mad, and then she's gonna yell at me, and then I'mma tell her that it was _your _fault, you stupid stupid _freak._" Shooting one last death-glare at the bewildered boy in front of her, Becky stomped off to find her best friend, and Spencer remained where he was on the ground, trembling for a few more minutes, and thinking about how he really _did_ hate school.

Finally deciding that the coast was clear, Spencer shakily stood and dusted his trousers off - not that it mattered. The grass stains were already going to have his mother in a tizzy.

Shaking his head, Spencer looked at the little tree grove where he had been planning on hiding for the remainder of his recess, all desire to sit down there and contemplate the universe suddenly gone – stained, perhaps, by the rather sour memory of Becky throwing her little temper tantrum.

Spencer scanned the yard, trying to determine where it would be safest to go. The field was out – there were too many kids from his class there, and Spencer didn't want to be called any more names today. That, of course, also knocked out the options of the jungle gym, the seesaw, the slide . . .

Reid's eyes finally landed on the regular swing set. Ever since the chains on two of the seats had had been broken and became a safety hazard, and a tire swing had been built on the other corner of the playground, the kids never went near the dilapidated old structure – which still wasn't due to be torn or fixed for a few more weeks. It was twisted, mangled, quiet . . . the perfect place for him to hide for a little while.

As Reid started towards the tired piece of equipment, his hazel eyes took in something else – for the first time in a long time, someone was sitting on one of the old plastic seats.

Spencer had never seen this boy before – although he looked to be about the same age as Reid. He was extremely skinny, too, and very pale. Reid knew he wasn't a Nevada native instantly, from the way in which he was dressed; pressed blue jeans and a button down shirt, with a pair of blinding white Nikes to boot. And, of course, the sunscreen he had smeared on his thin little arms also screamed "Not From Here!" But even as Spencer noticed all of this, and noted it in his memory for later, he was distracted and most fascinated by the boy's hair.

It was almost as long as Reid's.

Admittedly, this wasn't something that a lot of people would get terribly excited about, of course. But Spencer was the only boy he knew of with drapes of hair that went past his collar (his mother was always imploring him to cut it, but Spencer liked the feeling that having a curtain of curls to hide behind gave him – it felt . . . safe.). Having his long locks was just another thing that the other kids in his class teased him about, and Spencer took their abuse silently. If he told his mother, she would force him to get it cut.

But here before him, _finally_, was another boy with long hair. Admittedly, this kid had much darker, thicker, straighter hair, a pin straight sheet of black which looked almost midnight blue in the bright light – but Reid went forth, undeterred. He approached the stranger before him, determined to play nice.

As his footsteps drew nearer, the boy sitting on the swing, twisting and spinning by dragging his foot through the gravel below, heard him and looked up sharply; his eyes were almost as dark as his hair, and he met Reid's gaze full on he approached.

Finally stopping right in front of the boy, Spencer took a second to breathe, needing the pause to collect his thoughts. He tried not to break eye-contact with the kid in front of him, but it was hard; the boy had a piercing gaze, and it made Reid want to look at anything but that powerful stare that he felt was seeing right through him.

He didn't know it, of course, but the boy sitting on the swings was thinking the exact same thing about _him._

Finally, biting the inside of his cheek, Reid gave a small, shaky smile, and thrust out his hand.

"I'm Spencer – Reid, that is. I wanted to introduce myself – I mean, I guess that I _have to_ introduce myself, because, well, we've never met – but, of course, you know that, don't you, you being one of us and all – and anyway, I mean, I was thinking that I hadn't seen you around before – h-hence the wanting to greet you personally, and I - I - . . ."

Reid's babbling drifted off as the dark-haired boy continued to stare at him, and he awkwardly shoved his hands in his pockets, blushing. After a moment of silence, where the stranger watched Reid and Reid tried to pretend that he wasn't, Spencer finally shook his head slightly, and staring at the ground, mumbled, "I'm sorry," before making to turn around and retreat.

Before he could even take one step in the other direction, a soft voice called out behind him.

"I'm Peter. Peter Petrelli."

Reid turned back to face the kid – Peter – on the swings. He was still staring at Spencer with those bold and piercing eyes, but his mouth was upturned in a slight smile, and his expression softened as he spoke again.

"Do you wanna play?"

Reid felt a grin breaking across his face as he bounded back towards the old swing set.

* * *

**"Leap of Faith"**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** Yuppers, this is definitely going to be a threeshot – I've even got the ending almost written, and I betcha I could have it posted tomorrow. It's entirely too much fun writing as two innocent, geeky men – I mean, just seeing as I'm a crazy witch-lady.

Anyways, I know that long author's notes suck the big one, so I'll just finish my part and let the people read; I wanted to apologize in advance for the manner in which Peter and Spencer speak in this chapter – looking it over, I realize how little they sound like six-year-olds. But I do have reasoning behind my madness: I figure that Spencer is a tremendous genius, and very mature, so he might just talk like a little adult. And Peter, . . . well, he takes after his big bro Nathan a lot, so I was thinking that, as a wee one, he might try to sound a little more grown-up than normal. I dunno . . . Whatever, I'm satisfied enough to post this trifle. And _you, _my lovelies, are crazy enough to read it. (*Smiles*)

**Disclaimor(s): **I most certainly do own my own story, my imagination, and my creativity (and they're not for sale, so NO ONE ELSE gets to either, _got it?_). But, most regretfully, I do not own _Criminal Minds_, _Heroes, _or the city of Las Vegas. And, believe you me, if I owned Peter Petrelli or Spencer Reid, I would be a bit to busy making them kiss to be on here writing FanFiction. (Saw-ry, but 'tis the truth.)

Reviews, while unnecessary, are still read, appreciated, and responded to.

Do enjoy.

* * *

**"Leap of Faith"**

* * *

Spencer was still smiling as he took a seat on the only remaining swing that wasn't broken – which just happened to be the one next to Peter. He gingerly sat down, not wanting to rifle the hot old plastic any more than necessary, and, as he got comfortable, scrutinized the boy sitting next to him, slowly spinning and winding the chains of his swing seat as he thought.

Seeming to sense the attention, Peter lifted his eyes once more to gaze at Reid with his startlingly blunt stare.

"What?" the dark-haired boy asked, frowning just a little bit.

"Oh! Uh, . . ." Reid stuttered, embarrassed at having been caught. "Uh, . . . nothing. I mean, nothing _bad, . . ."_

Peter continued to watch him, and Reid, massively uncomfortable, broke eye contact and cast his glance down at the ground as he continued to speak.

"I mean, I was just trying to figure out why I haven't seen you here before – because I'm sure that I haven't. Since, I mean, I've memorized the entire school enrollment list, and I don't remember there being a 'Petrelli, Peter' on there at all. And I haven't missed a day of school yet, but I don't recall seeing you around the campus thusfar . . ."

"Oh."

Reid finally looked up when he heard the smile in Peter's voice, and when he met the other boy's gaze this time, he saw a much more friendly light in his eyes.

"My family just moved down here on Monday, and I was sick on Tuesday and Wednesday and Thursday. Today's my first day in school."

Spencer frowned slightly, trying to work through something in his mind.

"You just started?" Peter nodded. "But it's almost _October_."

Peter's scowl returned. "I know that. But we had to come down right away, and Daddy says we're staying for awhile, so I me and my big brother Nate hafta start school for a little while, and he dropped me off at kindergarten this morning . . . And school in New York doesn't start until October, anyway."

As delighted as Reid was to find out that Peter _was_ the same age as himself, his keen mind latched on to a different part of what the other boy has just said.

"You're from New York?"

Peter smiled, then. "Me, and Nate, and my mom and dad. We all grew up in the city."

It was all Reid could do not to jump off of his seat in excitement. As it was, he was visibly shaking with delight at this news.

"That's so fantastic! I've always wanted to see New York City – it's home to some of the greatest pieces of our country's culture; the Statue of Liberty that forever solidified a union between the nations of France and a still very young America, and the Chrysler Building that was the very first one in creation that was able to maintain a stable structure in the shape of a non-equilateral triangular prism – and then there's the famous Coney Island, which is home to one of the oldest carnivals in all of North America, and the _world_, for that matter! Have you seen the Empire State Building? Or how about the world's smallest house on 3rd Avenue? I've always thought that it would be fascinating to take some time to visit the Hudson Bay – not to swim, of course, but for some analytical and observational samples. Is it really as filthy as all of the reports say? I – "

Peter just stared as Reid babbled on excitedly, amused by the way his eyes had widened impossibly and how his hands were flinging about, gesturing wildly as he spoke, getting louder and faster as he went on and on and _on. _

There was finally a brief silence as Reid paused to suck in a breath, and Peter, amazed that the other boy hadn't collapsed yet from an inherent lack of oxygen, cut in smoothly.

"You talk a lot."

Spencer immediately slammed his mouth closed, biting his lips and looking fearful of the insult that he was sure was about to be hurled at him. Peter only smiled gently at this.

"You're really smart."

There was a brief pause, where Spencer mustered the boy before him, trying to detect mocking or sneering . . . but Peter only blinked at Reid's gaze, his eyes a mask of innocence and a light note of admiration.

Reid let out a breath that he didn't know he'd been holding, and relaxed a little bit. _It's okay_, he reassured himself_. Peter's nice, _Spencer thought, as he spoke again.

"T-Thank you. I don't know if intelligence can be measured accurately in comparison from one human to another, but I do like to read a lot, and I can do extensive levels of complicated math fairly quickly, and I have an eidetic memory that allows me to memorize anything that has been written or is visually noted, too."

Peter listened quietly, tipping his head when Spencer finished speaking. "Why are you in kindergarten? You sound smarter than Nate, and he's a grown-up."

Reid gave a small smile, one corner of his mouth lifting up. "My parents are trying to persuade the school to let me move up further in the school system, to fifth or sixth grade." He paused again before continuing. "But my dad says that if they can't convince the Board of Education to promote my learning, then they might have to move me to a different school district."

"Does that mean you'd move like my family did?"

"Maybe." Reid sighed, thinking that that wouldn't necessarily be the worst thing to ever happen to him. "Maybe . . ."

"Do you _want_ to move?" Peter asked, seeming genuinely perturbed.

"Maybe . . ." Reid trailed off again, still lost in thought.

"Why?"

Spencer looked up, and was promptly caught by his new friend's curious stare. "Pardon me?" he asked, hoping for clarification.

"Why would you want to leave here? This place is great – it's warm and people are nice and the air doesn't smell like cars . . . It's way better than New York, Spencer."

Reid snorted, and stared at Peter incredulously. "What could lead you to think that? Anyplace has to be better than Vegas! Especially New York . . ." Reid thought dreamily of the city where he hoped to be a cop someday.

Peter merely shrugged, and an awkward silence fell over the two youngsters as the kids around them continued to play and laugh and scream and make noise, totally oblivious to the two boys sitting alone on the old swing set. Finally, desperate, Spencer grabbed at something, anything, to keep this conversation with his new friend going.

"Why did your family move here?"

Peter, still averting his eyes from Reid's, spoke after a few seconds.

"We're visiting my Uncle Linderman. Daddy says that it's for business, and we have to say until Christmas, or even more."

"What sort of business?"

"I dunno. It's about a paper factory or something. Really boring stuff. But Mom's all happy, and Nate thinks it's the coolest thing ever."

Reid had always wondered what it was like to have an older brother or sister. "What's Nate like?"

Peter's face instantly lit up, talking about his older brother with the sort of revered voice one uses for speaking of Superman, Spiderman, or someone else magical and Marvel-ous.

"Nate's the greatest big brother in the whole world. He's always real busy, but he likes to play football with me, and he helps take care of animals when I bring them home, and he shares dessert, and he calls me 'Pete' instead of 'Peter' like everyone else does, so I know that I'm special to him."

Reid smiled, happy that Peter found such joy in having a sibling. If only his mom would have another child – then he could be a big brother, too.

"How old is Nate?"

Peter took a moment to answer, thinking over the math in his head. "He's seventeen. He's gonna be done with school soon."

"What does he want to do after that?"

"He says he wants to go to Congress, but mom says that he needs to pick another school. I hope he does, 'cuz Congress is all the way in Washington, and I want him to stay in the same school as me anyway."

Spencer decided not to mention that 'Congress' was an establishment of the government, as opposed to a secondary learning institution. It wasn't important. "He sounds very interesting."

"He is! He's the coolest guy _ever_. He can even fly."

Reid sat up a little straighter, thinking that perhaps he had simply misunderstood, and cleared his throat, meeting Peter's excited eyes, and asked softly, "Pardon?"

"_He can fly."_

After a moment of thinking, Spencer laughed. He got it – it was a joke. Oh, sure, Nathan, Peter's brother, _could fly. _He got it, now.

"Why are you laughing?" Peter stared hard at Reid, his face tightening.

"Well – well, because, you said that your brother can fly." Reid looked over at Peter, whose face indicated that he still wasn't getting it. "Fly? Like, across the sky, faster than a speeding bullet?"

Peter continued to glare at him, and Spencer began to stumble over his words.

"Pe – people can't fly, Peter . . . I mean, they _can't._"

Peter's stare was acidic, boring a hole right through Spencer's head. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, and tight.

"My brother can."

Reid cocked his head slightly, trying not to be intimidated by the intensity of the look that Peter was shooting him.

"What makes you think that?"

"I don't think it – I know it."

"Well, how do you know it?"

"I've seen it."

Reid's mouth dropped open, and he simply stared back at the small boy before him.

"You've _seen_ it?

Peter nodded defensively. "Yeah, I have."

"You've seen your brother fly?"

"Sorta."

_Aha, _Reid thought, and he pushed a little bit more. " 'Sorta?' "

Now Peter seemed more defensive; he crossed his arms over his chest, and stared defiantly back into Spencer's eyes.

"When Nate's asleep, sometimes . . . sometimes I go to his room when I have a nightmare to sleep with him, . . . and one night, he was floating in his bed . . . above his bed, I mean. He was still snoring, and lifting the blanket up with him, . . . but he was floating. I saw it."

Reid's vastly intellectual mind had already spit out an explanation for this anomaly Peter was claiming before the boy had even finished talking.

_He loves his brother almost to the extent of worship. And when you combine the fact that he sees Nathan like some sort of hero with a lack of sleep due to an apparent nightmare (which he sought out __**NATE**__ to fix for him) of course Peter might think that his brother was floating. He was tired, and scared, and only comforted by the sight of someone he cares about so much, . . ._

Reid split out of his reverie to find Peter still staring at him, expectantly. Hesitating for only a second, Reid spoke.

"Peter, have you seen Nathan levitate since then?"

At Peter's confused look, Spencer apologized and clarified. "I'm asking, have you seen him float in the air again?" When Peter shook his head reluctantly, Spencer smiled. "Well, then isn't it possible that it didn't happen like that?" he asked kindly.

To his surprise, instead of looking comforted, Peter reacted more violently than was really called for, jumping off of the swing and coming to a halt directly in front of Reid.

"I KNOW WHAT I SAW!" Peter yelled, catching the attention of their playground supervisor. Noticing the look they were being given, Peter lowered his voice, but continued to whisper furiously to Spencer.

"I _know_ what I saw. Nathan was floating – he _was_." Seeing Reid shaking his head, preparing to cut him off, Peter continued on full-force. "I thought you were nice, but you're just like the other kids in my class when I told them that Nathan could fly. They all laughed at me and told me I was stupid. I thought that maybe you would be nice to me, but now you're just like _them,_ Spencer Reid." Looking almost as hurt as he was angry, Peter turned on his heel, and stormed away.

Reid, thinking that he couldn't bear to have two people stomp off from him in a bad mood today, jumped out of his seat, and ran to catch up with the taller boy. "Peter, wait!"

Peter stopped, and turned slowly to face Spencer again, his face a mask of emotionlessness, but his eyes still piercing and brimming little beams of complicated feeling. Reid came to a stop a few feet away from the other boy, panting as he tried to catch his breath (Spencer wasn't used to the physical stuff).

_Who cares if he thinks that he saw his brother fly? He's only six! And memory can be malleable enough for someone to think that they've seen something they haven't . . . _Spencer thought then of his mom, and all the things she was 'sure' about. He looked up at Peter, and thought then about this was the first person his age in almost two months to be kind to him – and how nice it was that he was finally thinking in terms of 'friend.' And about how awful it would be to lose the only kid around who treated him with any level of decency.

Reid couldn't. So he wouldn't.

"I'm sorry." Reid gasped out, and when Peter made no move to keep stalking off, he continued. "I'm sorry about what I said back there – I didn't mean to come off as callous. I just have a hard time believing things that I can't see with my own eyes, is all." _It was all true,_ Reid reflected, still watching for Peter's reaction. _I didn't technically lie . . ._

Peter studied the smaller figure before him, one eyebrow raised.

"Do you mean it?" he asked finally, hope breaking across in his voice, despite his best attempt to hide it.

Reid smiled. It wasn't over.

"Yes – I mean, I do. Theoretically, it's highly implausible that human beings can perform such extraordinary acts as levitation or telepathy – _theoretically!" _He called, as Peter, a look of hurt flashing across his face, made to leave again. When Peter halted, Reid rushed on with the rest of his thought, eager to spit it all out before he lost his audience for good.

"B-But there is this theory through evolution; it claims that as people's DNA progresses, it's only natural that c-certain abilities would begin to show through . . ." Reid, seeing that he finally had Peter's attention, continued on. "There's actually a rather infamous thesis by Dr. Chandra Suresh, a geneticist who lives in India, exploiting these very theories, and detailing about various capabilities that he feels most likely to arise in human beings soonest. There's a whole chapter about premeditated airborne-willed movement."

Peter now turned so that he was fully facing Spencer, who watched, waiting to see if he had made a good move.

"So it's actually possible?" Peter asked, hesitant.

Reid sensed the other boy's trepidation, and hurried to answer before his silence could be misinterpreted as lying.

"Yes, it's possible." _Just really, really, REALLY unlikely. _

But Reid was glad for the decision he's made, as Peter's face broke out into a smile, and he finally lowered his crossed arms. Even someone as young as the little genius could see the relief going across the other boy's face, happy that, at last, someone believed him.

"Thank you." He breathed, walking up to Spencer and giving him a one-armed hug.

Reid, who had never been very good with touch, stood stiffly and awkwardly until Peter let go, and backed up a few steps. The two boys stared at each other for an uncomfortable heartbeat, and then the Recess Monitor blew his whistle, signaling that the kids' time outside was over. As the two boys started to head back towards their respective classrooms, Peter met Spencer's eye once more, and before he could stop himself, blurted out, "Do you wanna see it?"

Reid didn't have to ask what "it" he was talking about. "When?"

Thinking about it for just a second, Peter had an answer almost immediately. "What about tonight? Then you could spend the night if you wanted. And I know Nate will be home, because he's still sick from when I got a cold."

Reid bit on his lip, chewing the idea over. He really, really wanted to – not just for the possible scientific exploit, but because being invited over to someone's house to spend the night was something that he'd always wanted to do, secretly. But, . . .

"Can I have your telephone number?" Reid asked Peter, as they neared the doors to the school, and the crowd around them became thicker and louder. At Peter's questioning glance, Reid clarified, "My dad will want to call and make sure that it's okay if I stay the night. And I'll have to go home and pack a bag and everything. This way he can call and get directions to your house."

"Oh." Peter smiled a ghost of a smile, told Reid his number.

"Can you remember that?" he asked with concern, and Reid just shot him a small smirk.

Peter grinned back, and the two boys parted ways at last, each heading to their own teacher and respective classes full of kids who, for different reasons, didn't like them.

But each boy was still smiling – after all, each of them had found a prospective best friend. Who cared about their classmates?

* * *

**"Leap of Faith"**


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** Holy crap, I did it! A completed story that's longer than a one-shot and isn't poetry. I'M SO HAPPY!

Just a note, and a promise to my future self (hey, there!): _this isn't over_. I mean, yes, this particular story is over, because I have nothing more to say about my two little sweethearts as _little_ sweethearts. But I definitely want to have more Peter and Spencer friendship. Maybe I could do something about them in college, or as teenagers, . . . I'm not sure. But I hope some plot-bunnies will hop my way soon, because I'm sorta already going into withdrawal from lack of new television (and, really, if I'm not doing my homework, then I'd like to be able to say that I was at least doing _something _at all.

To my knowledge, only three people have actually been reading and following this story; so I'd like to take a quick second and thank Fan-ficcer-pickers **Loupyloo720, tea-is-liquid-wisdom **and **Zarbie**. Knowing people actually waste their time of day to go over whatever I'v scribbled down for the time-being . . . well, besides being a little disturbing, it's flattering. So shank you very much, guys. it's been a blast.

**Disclaimor(s): **I most certainly do own my own story, my imagination, and my creativity (and they're not for sale, so NO ONE ELSE gets to either, _got it?_). But, most regretfully, I do not own _Criminal Minds_, _Heroes, _or the city of Las Vegas. And, believe you me, if I owned Peter Petrelli or Spencer Reid, I would be a bit to busy making them kiss to be on here writing FanFiction. (Saw-ry, but 'tis the truth.)

Reviews, while unnecessary, are still read, appreciated, and responded to.

Do enjoy.

* * *

**"Leap of Faith"**

* * *

Spencer Reid had been taken by surprise by a great many things in his life – and he wasn't ashamed of that. Besides being an inquisitive mind, he was also an easily startled one, and it was hardly for much effort that many a person on the planet could claim that they had scared the young genius.

But of everything that had ever amazed Spencer before, this moment had to be one of the toppers.

His father was letting him sleep over at the Petrellis' house.

In fact, when he had come home to tell parents about what had happened at recess that day, his mother went to give him a hug and kiss and tell him how happy she was for him. And even Reid's father, a generally stoic man, had smiled at his son and told him that of course he could spend the night – as soon as William cleared it with the Petrelli household.

So Reid had rambled off the phone number to his father, and then bounded up the stairs with Diana to go pack. She sat on his bed while he went throwing things into an overnight bag, debating how many books to take, and whether or not to bring some of his favorite records.

"Oh, my Spencer," Diana smile softly, watching her son work himself up over something as simple as a sleepover. Reid turned to face his mother, face scrunched up in indecision, still trying to work out all the details of his first-ever overnight experience.

"Spencer," Diana continued, seeing that she had his attention, "you don't have to worry so much about this. Peter sounds very nice, and I'm sure he'll have plenty for you to do over there. You don't need to bring those –" she gestured to the pile of thick volumes in his hand, "and if he's so un-entertaining that you think you do, then little Petrelli might not be the kind of person that you want to spend the night with, right?"

Seeing the wisdom in his mother's words, Reid nodded and immediately dropped his armload of novels, and instead went to his closet to grab some clothes. Diana watched him, and noted the sad look on his face when he came out – sure, her Spencer was smiling brightly, but she knew he was a little put-off about something.

_A mother knows . . ._

"What's wrong, baby?"

Spencer just shrugged his shoulders, mumbling, "Nothing . . ." as he meticulously folded socks and a sweater into the little duffel on his bed.

Spencer's mom shook her head – _men – _and patted the bed beside her.

At last looking up, Reid met Diana's eyes, and sighed, dropping his crisply pressed slacks onto the floor, and jumping up to sit beside his mother. She fiddled absentmindedly with his curls, and Spencer leaned into her shoulder, closing his eyes and letting all tension leave his body.

Diana knew that he had something to say, and she waited him out, letting her special little guy find the words on his own.

"Mom?"

"Mm?"

Reid took in a deep breath, trying to work up his nerves, and then spit it all out in one rush of air.

"Mom, you know how sometimes you say that you have 'issues' to deal with, and you think you see things that aren't there? You say you're sick?"

Diana turned slightly, her eyes on Spencer, inquisitive. Spencer plowed on.

"Mom, I think that Peter might think that he saw something he didn't and I don't want him to be sick, because Peter's nice and I want him to be my friend, but if he's sick, and he thinks that things are real when they're not, then how can he and I – "

Reid was cut off as Diana squeezed him tighter into her arms, and whispered, "Ssh," quietly, until there was nothing but silence in the room. She leaned down, and gently tipped Spencer's chin up until he was looking at her head-on. His small lips quivered, and Diana felt her heart break again at everything the child had had to put up with in his short, short life.

"Spencer, baby, you don't need to have any worries about Peter – or about me, for that matter. I know I'm sick, but your father and you take good care of me, and we're all going to be okay because of that. Do you understand?" At Reid's nod, she continued, "And Peter doesn't have what I have, Spencer. He's a little boy, and little boys see amazing things, sometimes. It doesn't mean that he's ill – it just means that he has a healthy imagination."

Spencer just watched her, the uncertainty clearly visible as his eyes darted back and forth over her face, searching for answers that weren't there. Diana leaned down, touched her forehead to his, and said, her voice soft and reassuring and full of love, "I promise, baby."

A few minutes of full, contented silence slipped by, and then she released her hold on Spencer, and he smiled (a real smile) as he bent down and began refolding his wrinkled clothes. The rest of the next few minutes passed in silence, until William popped his head in and told Spencer that he would be dropping him off at the Petrellis' in a few minutes – as it turned out, they only lived three blocks down; the Reids had even seen the moving vans when they had arrived earlier in the week.

Spencer tossed his toothbrush and a small bottle of hand-soap into the bag, before zipping it up and looking back towards his mom.

Diana bent down to give her son a hug goodbye, and whispered into his hair, "You're going to have lots of fun tonight, right, Spencer?" As she pulled away, Diana looked into Spencer's eyes, hands still clasping his frail little shoulders. "Right?"

Spencer looked into his mother's blue eyes, and, truly feeling it, grinned and promised that he would.

Then, following his father out the door, Spencer waved goodbye to Diana, and eagerly trotted down to the Petrellis'.

_*CriminalHeroes*_

"This place is amazing!" Peter couldn't help but smile amusedly at the wonder in Spencer's voice as the younger of the two walked around, staring at the Petrelli Mansion in utter amazement.

But Reid couldn't help but be amazed – the home was twice the size of his own, and far grander. Whereas the Reids made due with upscale second-hand furniture, the Petrellis had a large assortment of refurbished antiques, all stylish and color-coordinated. Where the Reids had slight mess and a thin layer of dust on a number of surfaces, everything in this house was perfectly organized, straightened, and gleaming. And, most of all, where there was far too much silence at Spencer's house, this one had a pleasantly overwhelming array of noises; classical music floating down the stairs, the pitter-patter of the maid's footsteps as she moved around on the top floor, and the hum of blessed air-conditioning – another thing that the Reids lacked.

"It's home, is all." Peter finally said, gesturing for Reid to drop his bag and follow him to the kitchen. Spencer hesitated for a second before gently placing down his duffel and quietly walking behind his friend.

As they entered the large room full to bursting with shiny counters and new appliances, Reid was slightly startled by the appearance of another life-form by the refrigerator. This one was a tall boy – one who would have looked like a very handsome version of Peter, had his skin not had the palor of an egg, and his hair not been a tangled wasp's nest above his rumpled pajamas.

"Hey, Nate." Peter smiled as he headed towards a lower cupboard, and began digging inside in search of snacks. "Where are Dad and Mom?"

The older boy – the infamous Nathan himself, it seemed – didn't look up from the sandwich he was making, and answered Peter's question in a voice clotted from sore throat and riddled with exhaustion.

"Dad's at a meeting with Linderman about their new company in Odessa, and Mom had a function to attend with some guy named Nakimura." Nathan broke off into a coughing fit, and though Spencer jumped in alarm and Peter was immediately at his brother's side, the older of the Petrelli boys merely waved off his hands, and continued talking after the wheezing had subsided – as though it had been nothing, nothing at all.

"Anyway, . . ." Nathan slurred slightly, topping off his sandwich and grabbing the water bottle Peter was holding out to him, "Mom said that you need to make sure not to stay up too late, Dad said that we're doing a brunch tomorrow, and I'm saying that you need to give me a break tonight, because I have a load of Trig homework that's due on Monday, and I need to concentrate."

Peter nodded, and Nathan was turning to make his way out of the kitchen, when both brothers were surprised by the sound of Spencer's voice, as he spoke for the first time since entering the kitchen.

"As I understand it, the application of the math of trigonometry is merely relevant to the measure and angles of correlations between varying sizes of triangles – similar to many sections of Algebra, which I am quite articulate in. Perhaps I could be of some assistance on your homework?"

The corners of Peter's mouth turned up in a grin as he glanced first at Spencer's earnest expression, and then at his brother's face, which looked something like Peter thought it might look if a giant purple elephant had gone bouncing through the room – so apparent was Nathan's shock. An awkward beat of silence passed, and then Nate, still staring at Spencer's eager smile, spoke out of the corner of his mouth.

"Who's the highbrow?"

Before Peter could begin the proper introductions, Spencer spoke again – if possible, even faster than before.

"Actually, that's a rather antiquated term, and while synonymous, is usually formatted today in such context as "egghead" or "geek" – not that I would prefer either of those terms, of course, I mean. I was rather thinking that instead we – "

"His name's Spencer." Peter cut in, seeing his brother's confusion continue to grow as the kid kept rambling. "He's my new friend at school. Spencer, this is my big brother Nathan."

_The one who can fly, _Reid thought silently, but rather said, "Peter talks about you a lot, Nathan," sticking out his hand to shake.

Nathan, looking a little surprised by the formality of this gesture, bent down slightly and took the smaller fingers in his own. "I'm not shocked – but I haven't heard a thing about you yet, Spence."

Reid twitched slightly at the use of the nickname – no one had ever called him that before – and finished shaking Nathan's hand, dropping his grasp from the older boy's palm.

"Really, I'd assume it would be both an extraordinary and mildly unreasonable act to have expected or hoped for Peter to have said anything about me to anyone yet, the fact being that we only just met today, and near the conclusion of the school hours, at that, and so we've only just begun to have the time to get acquainted, ourselves."

Nathan's mouth was hanging slightly open as he watched Reid rant. Shaking his head a bit when the younger boy had finished, Nathan spoke again.

"Whoah. So, you must be like some sort of genius or something?"

"Well, actually, I don't abstain to the belief that intelligence can accurately be –"

"Yeah, he's super smart." Peter interrupted, beaming. "He's knows just about everything, and he remembers everything, too."

Spencer blushed as both Petrellis turned to look at him again, and ducked his head. "I _don't _know –" he started to protest, only to find himself cut off by the older of the brothers.

"Sorry I asked. Sucks knowing that a six-year-old is smarter than I am." Smiling, Nate ruffled Spencer's and Peter's hair affectionately. "Just do me a favor, Spence, and make sure that my brother stays safe and gets to sleep before the parental units come home, okay?" At Reid's barely perceptible nod, Nathan started shuffling towards the door, sandwich plate in hand. As he was exiting, the Peter's older brother called out, "Nice to see you, Pete. And it was a pleasure, Spencer."

Once he was gone, Peter thrust a small Pyrex bowl into Reid's hands, and began filling it with little bags of chips, Debbie cakes, and an assortment of fruit. At Spencer's questioning glance, Peter smiled and explained, "For tonight. We're going to camp out in my room until Nathan falls asleep, and then we're gonna go see."

Reid, still very iffy on the whole concept of this idea, merely nodded his head, and helped fill the bowl with more snacks.

Peter grabbed a pitcher of iced tea and two glasses, and then, beckoning for Spencer to follow him, began ascending the stairs.

*_CriminalHeroes*_

For the third time that evening, Spencer yawned. And, for the third time that evening, Peter hissed "Shush!" and shoved his arm.

"Will you knock that off?" Reid snapped back, finally having had enough of the physical abuse.

Of course, it could have also been the inherent lack of sleep. After all, it was almost midnight, and six-year-old boys should certainly not be awake at such hours.

Both Spencer and Reid _had_ been sleeping, having drifted off after several hours of talking, playing card games (Peter had taught Spencer how to play "Spit": Spencer had taught Peter how to play poker), and watching _Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom_ (which each boy had loved far more than they would admit). Both of them had been exhausted from the activities, and even more from the excitement of having found someone to hang out and have fun with.

But then Reid had awoken (somewhat gratefully, as he thought that he might have been having a nightmare) by small, warm hand roughly shaking his shoulder, and the familiar voice of his friend whispering in his ear that it was "time."

So the two of them had grabbed a blanket to share, and crept as silently as they could into the older Petrelli's room, not even shutting the door for fear of the sound it might make.

And when Reid had turned, full of unbidden anticipation, towards the sleeping form of Nathan Petrelli, he had been breathless to see . . . nothing.

Well, nothing out of the ordinary, that was. The older boy was curled up on the bed, snoring loudly enough to raise a few questions to mind, but, other than that, looking completely normal.

Spencer, rubbing his eyes from sleepiness, turned to Peter and raised his brow as best he could. Peter simply glared back at him and whispered, "Just let's wait a little while. He'll do it, Spencer. He _will._"

That had been a good forty-five minutes ago, and nothing more exciting than Nathan's rolling over to change position on the bed had happened. Or, if it had, Spencer must have missed in during one of his tremendous yawns.

Trying to keep himself awake, Reid began going over everything that he knew about the boy sitting next to him. Everything he'd learned over the course of the day . . .

Peter Petrelli's birthday was on October 16th – just one week after Reid's own.

He liked junk food just as much as Spencer himself did, but didn't get to eat it as often as the other boy.

He spent a lot of time hanging out with his brother, even though he liked different things

He wanted to be a doctor, . . . someday.

He wanted to save the world . . .

He wanted . . . to go . . . to . . . bed . . .

Reid's chin began drifting towards his chest, and he jerked up again, fighting the wave of sleepiness that kept coming over him.

_Clearly, _Reid thought, _this isn't working. _Fed up, he made to disentangle himself from the blanket he and Peter were sharing, intending to go back to the bedroom and catch some shut-eye before the sin rose.

Before he could even straighten his glasses, a hand shot up and gripped his elbow tightly, startling Reid a bit. As he jumped, he heard a very small voice whispering from the darkness.

"Please don't go, Spencer."

Inside his head, Reid battled fervently between his desire to get some much-needed rest and his conscience to stay and play a good friend to Peter.

Reid squatted back down, and wrapped his arms around his midsection. He turned to where he thought Peter was, and whispered quietly.

"Fine. But you have to talk to me, or I'm going to fall asleep again."

A brief pause, and then, softly, "Okay."

Reid nodded, and tried to think of something to talk about that they hadn't already covered. He looked towards Nathan, still slumbering peacefully on the bed.  
"Is he your favorite?"

Reid felt Peter jostle and stiffen next to him, and before he knew it, the other boy was sitting up straight, arms crossed just like Reid.

"Is who my what?"

"Nathan." Reid huffed, certain that Peter knew what he was talking about. "Is Nathan your favorite person?"

Peter said nothing for a moment, and then, just as Spencer was certain that he had either drifted off or was not going to answer, the other boy surprised him by speaking.

"Yeah. Yeah, he is."

"Why?"

Peter turned at the question, searching out and meeting Reid's eyes as best he could, the light in his own marred and dimmed by confusion. _Why was Nathan his favorite person?_

"Nate is . . . special. And I don't just mean the flying thing," Peter paused, ignoring the way Spencer tried to conceal rolling his eyes. "He's never mean to me – even when he could be. He's always ready to tuck me into bed and tell me a story – and if I have a nightmare, then he's the one who holds me until I feel better . . . He's the only one who tells me that he loves me – even if he never says it in fronta other people . . . With Nate, I know I'm important."

When Peter looked up, it was with unconcealed surprise that he found Spencer tearing up next to him, staring straight ahead as he tried futiley to mask his emotions. "What's wrong?"

Spencer swiped a hand at his face, embarrassed. "Nothing, Peter. I just – I understand the feeling, now."

Peter shifted so that he could look at Reid head-on.

"Who's your favorite?"

Spencer didn't even hesitate; "My mom."

There was a few heartbeats of between the two, as Peter thought over this new information. Truth be told, he couldn't imagine why Spencer's_ mom _would be the favorite person in his friend's world; based on Peter's own experiences, mothers liked to go out with friends and yell at their sons when they were fooling around. And fathers . . . fathers just liked to work and ignore their kids as much as possible . . .

It was with a total lack of the repetition he was inciting that Peter finally broke the barrier of relative calm, and asked, "Why?"

Reid was avoiding eye-contact, chewing on the inside of his cheek and staring straight ahead at the still un-miraculous form of Nathan Petrelli. He took a very long time to answer, so long that Peter almost thought he had dozed off.

"She's, . . . special."

Spencer sounded so sad saying that, and Peter was a little sad, himself. Mothers were always so complicated – 'special,' as he said – and hard to understand.

Each boy, sensing the other's discomfort and deep thoughts, allowed the silence to reign for a while. The house was quiet, the night air peaceful, and the lure of Dreamland so enticing that, had another few minutes passed, both boys would have missed the spectacle in front of them.

Reid was the first one to see Nathan Petrelli floating above his bed.

The young boy shot up straight, his movement jolting Peter into consciousness, and then both boys were standing, staring in wonder at the form before them. The older boy was sound asleep, lying still as a log, and would have appeared to be completely normal, had the nearest surface for him to be laying on not been almost a foot below his body.

And the two younger boys just stared.

_It was real._

Reid was the first one in the room to move, stepping forward cautiously and leaning in to poke the form of Nathan – but a hand slapping down on his wrist stopped him.

"_Don't!_" Peter whispered harshly, glaring at his friend.

Spencer's eyes, when they met that powerful gaze yet again, were fearful, and confused, and full of surprise.

"I – I – _have _to," Spencer choked out desperately. "I need to know th-that this is _real_, that I'm not – "

Suddenly terrified, Reid yanked his arm out of Peter's, and tore out of the room, down the hallway, and out of sight.

Peter, taking one second to look at the marvelous _proof_ of his older brother – his _favorite person_ – levitating in the air, before chasing after his friend. He found Spencer in his bedroom, curled up against the wall, trying and failing to conceal the wracking trembles that overtook his body.

Peter waited a minute, to see if Reid would notice that he was there, before sitting down on the floor next to Spencer, and slowly, quietly, speaking.

"What is it, Spencer?"

Reid was choking back his tears, and took a few moments to spit out an answer. "That can't have been real. It _couldn't_ have been." He drew i a deep breath, and turned to meet the eyes of his friend – who, to Reid's astonishment, looked slightly angry again.

"You said people could fly!" Peter was outraged.

Reid shook his head. "I said it was a _possibility_. But I never thought I'd actually see anything."

"But you _did,_ Spencer – I saw it, too. Nathan, . . . he flew." Spencer ducked his head, and Peter shouted, finally snapping out of his earlier good humor. "_IT HAPPENED!"_

Peter regretted it instantly as Spencer jumped slightly at his voice, and bent down to eye level with the other boy, grasping his forearm and squeezing in a brief and silent apology.

Reid, finally looking up again, asked, a very slight whimper in his voice, "How do I know I'm not just crazy and seeing things?"

Peter stared at the trembling form before him, completely taken aback by the turn this conversation had taken.

"Why would you think you're crazy?"

Reid sniffled. "My mo – I don't. I mean, I don't think _I am_ . . ." he looked up again, to meet Peter's eyes. "But how do I know that _I'm not_?"

Peter very gently raised his small hand to Reid's shoulder, and just let it lay there, trying to comfort his friend as he had seen his father comfort his mother so many times before.

"You're not crazy or anything, Spencer._ I_ was there, too, 'member?"

Reid nodded, his chin still quivering, and the two boys let the surrounding dark and quiet encompass them for an immeasurable amount of time.

Peter repeated the sentiment, trying to assure himself as much as Reid. "It was real . . . I was _there, . . ._ it happened . . ." His voice was quiet, barely a hum in the thick evening air – but he was sure that Spencer could hear him, because the other boy was nodding slightly, his face scrunched up in thought, as Peter continued to whisper.

_It __**was **__real. _

It was Reid who finally broke the pseudo-silence.

"My mom is crazy."

Peter looked at his friend, who was still folded up on himself.

"I mean, 'crazy' isn't the right word for it – she's sick. Very sick. It's called schizophrenia, it's when people see and hear things that aren't really there. Except, to the people who have it, there's no way to tell what's real and what isn't. And my mom thinks that I don't know, but I've heard her and Dad talking about it a lot, and I did my research – "

Spencer was talking faster now, completely blocking out everything around him.

" – there's a fifty-fifty chance that I'll have it, too. And even if signs don't show up before the mid-twenties in a male, there have been cases where young children will hallucinate – "

"Spencer." Reid snapped out of his monologue and turned to face his friend once more, trying to shut down his brain long enough to listen to Peter as he spoke.

"Spencer. You're not crazy. I was there_, too._ I saw it before, and I saw it tonight – so you're not crazy."

"Unless we both are."

Peter smiled a small smile at Reid's stubbornness. "No. We're not crazy. And you're mom's not crazy. She's just sick." Reid nodded. "Well, we're not sick, too. It's not us, Spencer. It's Nathan. He's just . . ."

"Special." Both boys completed in unison, and smiled.

Peter stood up, his hand still around his friend, and began leading a still-shaky Reid towards the sleeping bags they'd set up on the ground, expecting that the night was over, and that they would go to sleep. He hadn't thought to hear another peep from Spencer as the two boys settled in for the night, each wrapped under a think pile of knit blankets and a barrage of pillows.

"My mom tells me that I'm special, sometimes."

Peter looked over to where Reid was laying, completely wrapped up and snuggled in, staring at the ceiling and thinking before he continued on.

"But she tells me that because I'm smart." Reid's smill twisted into a hint of a grimace, a look of regret, and he spoke again, more quietly than ever.

"I'm not special like Nathan."

Peter smiled. "_No one_ is special like Nathan."

Reid paused for just a second before continuing, "But I wish I was. If we were special like Nathan, we could save the world, Peter."

Peter nodded, thinking how wonderful _that_ would be. Then, on a whim, he spoke again.

"Can I tell you a secret, Spencer?"

He heard Reid hum slightly in assent.

"Sometimes, when I dream, I dream that I'm flying right next to Nathan. Or that I'm really strong. Or that I can turn invisible . . . I dream that I'm special, too. Like Nathan."

Reid turned his head on the pillow, meeting his friend's hopeful eyes. He already thought that his friend was _special_ – but Spencer knew it wasn't in the way Peter so clearly wanted it to be. _It's a terrible sham that he doesn't understand what a good person he is already. He doesn't need the powers . . ._

But that wouldn't be what Peter wanted to hear, Reid knew. So he tried to comfort his friend in the way he desperately wanted.

"You could be special, too, Peter . . . I mean, it's possible." At Peter's trembling smile, Reid, emboldened, continued. "Genetics' theories state that siblings are more likely to share traits that parents and their children . . . Logically, if Nate has superpowers, you could, too."

Peter liked the way that Spencer said 'superpowers.' It meant that he really _believed. _"So it could all be real? I might fly?"

Reid shook his head. "I don't know, Peter. Maybe you could fly . . . or, if Dr. Suresh is onto somehting, maybe you could do something else miraculous. Telepathy, invisibility, . . . anything, maybe . . . It might just be that you have to wait until you're older to find out if it's true . . . But I hope you do have them. You deserve superpowers."

Peter felt a surge of warmth at this, and spoke tentatively next. "Spencer?"

Reid's eyes met his own, and, emboldened, Peter continued.

"Why did you tell me about your mom?"

There was no hesitation this time in Reid's answer. "Because you made a gesture of trust by inviting me into your home and letting me see something as personal as your brother's levitation. You trusted me, and I trust you. That's what friends do."

Peter, touched, whispered the next words out of his mouth.

"We're not just friends, Spencer."

Reid watched him, waiting, and Peter reached out his hand to brush against Spencer's fingers.

"We're brothers, too."

The grin that lit up the boys' faces could have powered the electricity in Las Vegas for a month.

And that evening – that early morning – ended with the curled forms of young Spencer Reid and Peter Petrelli dozing off at last, a night of excitement and happiness and contentment in having found one another exhausting the two boys completely, falling asleep with their hands still clutching into the fingers of their new play mate, their new best friend . . . their new brother.

* * *

**"Leap of Faith"**


End file.
